Restoring a Soul
by theweaknessinme
Summary: In the wake of Siege, Erica briefly reaches out to Jack before she is consumed with anger.
1. Chapter 1

_**A friend is someone …..**_

He was pacing. He needed to stop pacing; it was doing any good. He'd had hard days before but this seemed to make the others pale in comparison.

Earlier in the day Jack had watched with relief as Erica led the hostages to safety, but the relief which had flooded him had crumbled along with the walls of the building. The explosion rocked the earth, scattering bricks and debris in all directions. Staccato gunfire erupted and the whine and ping of bullets whistling through the air and ricocheting off concrete brought more chaos and confusion to the gathered crowds. For those few long moments he had mostly kept his head down, vibrating with the fear he'd known as an unarmed chaplain during his last tour in Iraq. He understood only too well that fear didn't stop you from doing your job.

He watched as one hostage was hit by a round of gunfire and saw that deadly familiar arc of the man's back as the force of the bullet threw him down. He knew the man was dead before he hit the ground, but Jack did not realize the profound impact this man's death would have over the coming weeks.

The gunfire had stopped as suddenly as it had started and after seeing Erica safely behind cover, Jack's first instinct was to assist the paramedics with the wounded.

As he turned his head a few minutes later to again check on Erica, he saw with confusion that she was back out in the debris field. She was cradling the head of the dead man in her lap. She was dazed, uncomprehending. Lost. Jack started towards her, but it was not until he saw Tyler crouch beside Erica that he realized that the man he just watched die had been Joe Evans. He could not go to Erica with Tyler there. He stopped, frozen in shock as the heart-wrenching scene unfolded before his disbelieving eyes. He saw the horror spread over Tyler's face and Erica's face twist in anguished as she drew her son to her. Watching Erica struggle to avoid touching Tyler with her blood covered hands clawed his emotions.

Jack's phone vibrated in his pocket giving him a jolt back to the present. He stopped pacing and slid it out.

"Erica" he stated quietly into the phone after seeing the call display.

There was no sound at the other end.

"Are you all right?" he continued in the same voice. _Dumb __question_.

There was an almost inaudible sob at the other end, but no words.

"I'll be right there," his husky voice soothed and hung up after he heard her disconnect.

In dramatic contrast to the calmness of his voice, Jack exploded into activity, reaching for his leather jacket on the back of the chair and snatching keys from the hook almost simultaneously. The rapid slapping of his feet echoed off the walls of the church hallway as he ran to the garage beside the rectory. This would be one of the last times he would ever drive a church vehicle. He probably shouldn't take it, but this was no time to worry about it. Jack drove swiftly, his jaw set as his teeth clenched.

This is what he did. What he was good at. He gave comfort to those who needed it. He had learned that empathy could eat him up, so always maintained a wall around the deepest parts of his heart, but compassion and understanding were his gift and he knew he could help.

Although he might show composure on the outside, right now his insides were in turmoil. When he'd seen Erica earlier today she was happily off to spend time with her family. How had this day gone so wrong? In the aftermath of the explosion, he had not been able to get in touch with Hobbes and when Jack questioned Chad Decker at the scene, Chad shook his head, baffled and visibly upset by all he seen. He said they'd talk later.

So Jack had returned to the church where his bottled frustrations had manifested themselves in lip chewing and pacing over the last few hours. He started collecting up his personal belongings to fill the time. Two duffle bags full. Hard to believe this was the total extent of his life as twelve years in the Church drew to a close. Chad did not call.

Jack had been on the verge of going for a much needed run to relieve his stress when Erica called. Finally all that pent up worry was going to have an outlet.

As he drove to Erica's, Jack continued to replay the bloodbath on the street in his mind. He had remained behind the barricade watching as Chris, Erica's partner, and Paul, her boss, went over to the bereft pair and knelt beside them. He watched as the men tried to move them away from Joe's body. He watched as Erica refused to leave until Joe's body was removed by the coroner. He watched as Chris drove Erica and Tyler away. He watched. That was all he could do. Now, at last, he could take action.

Jack wished Tyler would realize he was not responsible for the continuing conflict between the Visitors and humans, but this was no time to be explaining the reality of the situation to him; in fact, there was a real chance Tyler might even blame him for causing his father's death. _Great._ He was deeply concerned about coming face to face with Tyler, especially right now, but if Erica was calling him to come, she was willing to cope with any confrontation.

The house appeared empty as Jack pulled up outside. It was late and the neighborhood was quiet. Jack rapped gently on the front door and then tested the knob. The door swung open and he stepped inside. The light in the front entrance was lit, but the rest of the house was dark, as though she and Tyler had come home and not left the foyer. The smell of baking still clung in the air - the birthday cake Erica had made for Tyler. Her self-deprecating story of the step by step creation of that sad looking cake had brought an amused smile to his face as she had shared the photo on her phone. It was hard to believe Erica didn't do everything well... Now the scent which should have brought a smile and a happy memory to a family seemed horribly misplaced.

His eyes fell immediately on Erica's body draped over the stairs where she had collapsed, her hair cascading over her face. She was clad in the same clothes he had seen her wearing earlier. The extended hand cradling her phone was still caked in her ex-husband's blood.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart…**_

Jack quietly closed the door behind him. He could hear no other sounds in the house except the ticking of the clock and assumed Tyler was not there. Why wasn't he here with his Mom? It seemed strange - although no one could predict Tyler's behavior over that last few months, least of all his mother. Had today's hostage-taking been an act of terrorism or had it all been some elaborate V plan? How had all the Evans ended up in the same place? Jack was working with next to no information about the days' events. But, second-guessing V strategy was not a priority at the moment.

Jack slowly lowered himself till he was sitting sideways on the edge of the bottom stair almost touching Erica.

"Erica", he spoke in his low husky voice.

She did not acknowledge his presence. Worry knotted his stomach and furrowed his brow as he watched her.

Jack reached out and with one gentle finger drew a line from her forehead to chin, pushing her silken hair back till he could see her cheek. Swollen bruises bloomed around the cuts and dried blood streaked her upper lip and filled a split on her bottom lip. Her poor face had taken a lot of abuse, but it didn't look like anything was broken. _Who __had __beaten __her? _he wondered.

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" he asked, unsure of the extent of any unseen injuries.

Erica was quiet for a moment.

"No." Her reply was almost inaudible, more like an exhalation of breath.

As Jack gently stroked more hair away from her face he could see Erica's eyes were open and her unfocussed stare was fixed directly ahead.

"Where's Tyler?" he asked.

Another pause.

"Gone," her voice cracked as she spoke. Jack's first emotion was relief. He would have risen to that challenge, but was just as happy it wasn't going to be tonight. He would have his hands full with Erica. Since he was not here, Jack was pretty sure Tyler had headed for the distraction only Lisa could give him.

"To the mothership?"

"Yes", Erica jerked the single word from her lips, followed by a voiceless sob. It was hard to believe that this woman, a seasoned FBI agent, so capable and in control, was lying crumpled beside him completely overwhelmed by grief. Her body was intermittently wracked with silent sobs telling Jack that she had cried hard to the point of collapse here on the stairs. Jack's heart ached for her. He clenched his teeth to try to stop his own tears which were burning the backs of his eyes and continued to gently stroke her hair. He was not doing so well with that wall which was suppose to protect his own heart. She smelled of blood and dust and sweat, a far cry from the fragrant feisty woman who had breezed into the warehouse earlier in the day, relieving Hobbes of his coffee and ranting about being questioned by the FBI for 6 hours.

Erica was beyond tears. She had fallen on the stairs completely exhausted from the wails that had racked her body, but she had no idea how long she'd been lying there. Her mind continually replayed the slap she'd given her beloved son for shouting his harsh and unfair accusations at her. _His __father __was __dead __because __she __hadn__'__t __done __her __job_. Guilt tore at her for both the slap and the fear that there was the ring of truth in Tyler's cruel words.

Tyler had slammed the door in fury on his way out. The fractured family that she once adored was gone and could never be again. As the waves of remorse and grief swept over her she succumbed to the realization that everything which had kept her anchored for the past few years was gone.

Joe had not deserved his fate. He had been a reluctant participant, an innocent victim, of a fight that he joined only because of his son. If Erica had held any hope of reconciling with Joe, that possibility was over. She would never know if she had truly convinced him that he really was Tyler's father. Even in light of recent revelations, it was a hard sell. Though they had been leading separate lives for years now, she ached for his loss and the loss of their hope.

Joe's death was only part of the horror that had taken place today. She had confronted Ryan. She needed to hear the details of his betrayal face to face. She and Jack had mistakenly put complete trust in him and it was a crushing blow to have him turn on them. Planning the hostage situation, taking Eli's beating as a cover and trying to outmaneuvering the FBI - she had taken it all in stride. She was getting good at that sort of thing. But with the unexpected – and V orchestrated – arrival of Joe, she had begun to feel to feel the pressure of juggling too many balls and of lives hanging in the balance.

Erica wondered if she had made the best decisions she could today with Jack's mantra, _every __life __is __sacred,_ echoing in her head. Understanding that Eli Cohen would die today and knowing it for certain when the building inexplicability exploded paled with the death of Joe. Every step she had taken had been thwarted. Every carefully thought out strategy foiled. There had been forces at work far beyond her comprehension and her ability to fight. Erica felt she deserved the throbbing pain in her head for failing so miserably.

Tonight she wished she was a child again; to be held and comforted as her mother had cared for her after a now-forgotten childhood trauma. To have her brow stroked and cooled from the fire of a violent cry. To be reassured that everything would be all right.

There was only one person who could come close to understanding any portion of the day's events, someone who always saw the cup as half full, not half empty. Someone she could trust to find the light in the darkness. Someone who never failed to encourage her, support her, challenge her and sometimes just be there to listen.

Erica had pulled out her phone and called Jack. She didn't know what to say to him when he answered. She was not good at asking for help. The sound of his calm voice caused a sharp stab behind her eyes, physical pain because there were no tears left to cry. The man on the other end of the phone embodied gentleness; it radiated from his eyes, filled the air when he spoke and warmed the senses with an aching tenderness when he touched. His simple "I'll be right there" brought flooding waves of relief she was desperate for. If she held on a little longer she would be rescued – she admitted that she did indeed need rescuing from this day.

With the touch of his hand moving her hair back, she closed her eyes and the tension which had been holding her body together slowly eased. _It__'__s __all __right_, she self-soothed. _Everything __will __be __all __right. __You__'__re __not __alone, __Erica_, she told herself. _Help __is __here_. _He __knows. __He __understands._

Jack continued to stroke her hair, saw and felt her relax and knew it was a good thing. _Let __me __help __carry __your __burden __Erica. _But he didn't say it out loud.

At first, Jack assumed her grief was solely for the loss of Joe, but with Tyler's absence he realized there was more involved in the agony she was experiencing. What else had happened today in that building? How had Joe Evans become involved? Jack was frustrated because without more information it was hard to comfort Erica.

Jack really tried not to judge people, but in his opinion, Joe Evans had had thrown his family away because he hadn't had enough trust in his wife. Erica had even said as much to him. She had never given him the impression that she still felt a deep bond with Joe, so Jack was dismayed that Erica's suffering seemed so profound for a man who had walked away from her. If he had found a woman like Erica, he would have discovered another way to serve God, because he would never have left a woman like this.

Jack Landry's lips curved into a soft sad smile as he stroked Erica's hair. He sighed. He would never leave _this_ woman. _What __a __strange __time __to __admit __you__'__ve __fallen __in __love._ No matter what happened, together or apart, for better or worse, Jack was bound to Erica Evans forever. If he thought about it, he had been hers from the moment he saw her, to the point of being tongue-tied when she touched his arm and started their first conversation. As much as he'd tried to stay away from her in the first few days they'd known each other, their lives kept coming together, not always with pleasant results. After their initial push and pull, their alliance had just become stronger and stronger. As he'd come to know her better, his respect for her many facets and abilities had grown in leaps and bounds. Now he barely had a thought in the day that didn't include her somehow. And it made him happy to be so connected with her. _God __certainly __worked __in __mysterious __ways__ – __and __this __was __a __doozy._

Jack really wasn't sure how she felt about him or how he fit in to the puzzle of her life. He'd been hiding behind his collar trying to figure that out amidst the hectic chaos of their lives and the constantly changing razor edge they all danced on. She sometimes probed for the man behind the collar. He was not sure what he had let her see, but recalled blushing a few times under her intense scrutiny. She'd stopped calling him _Father_ a long time ago, except when she was teasing him. Certainly she seemed more at ease when he was wearing street clothes. But the collar had its uses in the fight against the Vs. Initially, he could come and go in the world without question and was trusted implicitly. All that had changed over the past few weeks and he wondered what his contribution could be since he was no longer a priest. He was now a huge target constantly monitored by both the FBI and the Vs.

He stifled a stab of selfishness, wishing today had been different. He wondered how Erica would have reacted to the news he'd been laicized. His crisis was almost trivial considering the events of the day, even though his life would change forever. She would have been concerned for him because the possibility had been looming over them for weeks, but what else would she have said? Would their relationship change? Would she pull away? He guessed he would find out what extent his vocation had had on their relationship soon enough.

"Can you stand?" he'd almost added an endearment, but stifled it.

* * *

><p>More to come.<p>

Thanks again to my beta who does her best to smooth out my quirks. Any strangeness is due to me tweaking the story after she has finished!


	3. Chapter 3

_**A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you….**_

"Let's go clean you up" Jack urged. He wanted to get ice on her bruises and antiseptic in her cuts. He hoped she had butterfly bandages to keep some of those cuts closed. It would be a shame to carry permanent scars as a visual reminder of this day.

Erica slowly and stiffly sat up on the stair, her head hanging down. Jack stood up and reached out to grasp her hands and steady her as she rose. He slid her jacket off her slumped shoulders and draped it over the banister, then shrugged his own off and slung it over hers. With a hand behind her elbow, he led her to the bathroom on the main floor, flicking on lights as he noticed the switches. He lowered the lid of the toilet seat and pulled her over to sit down.

"I'll be right back."

Jack went into the kitchen, turned on the kettle for tea and grabbed one of the kitchen chairs. He returned to the bathroom with it and positioned it in front of Erica.

Erica's eyes had been staring blankly from her pale face until he began to tend to her, then her swollen red eyes began to follow his every move.

He found an elastic band and awkwardly gathered the strands of hair away from her face with fumbling hands, binding them loosely at the back of her head. He didn't try to engage her in conversation, but worked in silence, methodically searching the medicine cabinet for supplies and laying them out on the counter. He ran warm water in the sink and submerged a wash cloth below the steaming surface. He worked efficiently with the confidence of having done it many times before. Jack's expression was grim as sat down and pulled his chair close to Erica, her knees between his. He began wiping Joe's blood from her hands. Erica became fascinated by watching the muscles in his jaw flex.

Jack knew that Erica was a spiritual person, but in all their conversations they had never discussed it. She wasn't Catholic, but she had been very comfortable in the church right from the start, unlike Hobbes or Ryan or even Chad Decker, so he knew she'd had some sort of church upbringing. Knowing she would recognize it, he began to recite the 23rd Psalm almost under his breath. He didn't know if it would comfort her, but it certainly helped him.

_The Lord is my shepherd;_

He tilted her face slightly up towards him where the light was better, but didn't make eye contact with her. He was all business.

_I shall not want._

He gently wiped the blood from the cuts around her eyes and applied disinfectant. She had exquisitely smooth skin.

_He maketh me to lie down in green pastures._

The blood around her nose and lip required more effort, but she didn't wince or move away. Her eyes remained fixed on his face.

_He __leadeth __me __beside __the __still __waters._

His tranquility was a balm to her. Jack opened the box of butterfly strips and removed two for the cut under her right eye, mechanically unwrapping and carefully applying the strips as he'd often done for wounded soldiers.

_He restoreth my soul._

He was done with her physical wounds and her stare was beginning to unnerve him.

He placed his hands carefully on each side of her face and tilted her head so he was looking directly into her bloodshot eyes and repeated the phrase.

_He restoreth my soul._

Jack held her red eyes for a long moment wishing he could absorb her grief, give her strength and reassure her she was not alone. Then he unexpectedly leaned forward and laid his lips on her forehead. He closed his eyes and wished it was he himself who could restore her soul.

When he leaned away from her, Erica felt as though her face was dissolving. His tenderness and caring were almost too much for her. She didn't deserve it. She hung her head and his fingers which had been holding her face now pushed deep into her hair. She was struggling between building a wall around her heart and spilling emotions without control. Every few minutes she changed which side of the wall she was on. At this moment she was spilling.

"Shhhh," he calmed, lifting her chin with one hand and tucking loose strands of glossy hair behind her ear. "It's all right", he said and her face began to relax. He continued.

_He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake._

Jack stood up and reached down taking Erica's hands in his and pulled her to a standing position.

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death;  
>I will fear no evil: <em>

_for thou art with me_

Erica's huge blue eyes were fixed on his once again, her pain so close he could feel it. They stood face to face, inches apart. Then Jack slowly reached out and pulled Erica against him, absorbing her in a healing hug. Erica buried her face in his neck and tried to melt into him as he whispered into her ear.

"And I'm with you, too, Erica." _Always._

As he held her he moved one hand to cradle her head against him and almost imperceptibly started to rock. He wanted to surround her and protect her. Normally Erica was the protector – his warrior princess, protector of all. It was his turn to do the protecting, if it was possible. He went long past the standard priest-hug time limit, with his head snuggling in to press against hers. Erica was gradually relaxing and leaning more and more heavily on him.

"Come," he whispered, sad to break this exquisite embrace, but worried that she might collapse again, this time on the bathroom floor.

Jack released Erica carefully and walked her into the livingroom with his arm around her. He sat her down on the couch, then knelt in front of her to remove her boots – the boots she had been wearing for a family motorcycle ride that had never happened. She watched him with eyes that were still numb. Jack swung her legs up so she was lying down then covered her with the blanket draped over the back of the couch. He perched on the edge of the couch looking down at her.

"When is your family coming?"

"Tomorrow" she answered.

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Don't remember", she whispered after a pause.

"I'm going to get some ice for your face and see what I can find for us to eat", he replied. He pulled the blanket a little farther over her shoulder. She wasn't racked with sobs now. They came less and less frequently. He rubbed her arm and leaned over to look at her to make sure she understood. He smiled his reassurance and she returned a slight nod in reply, but she remained far, far away.

* * *

><p>Jack sat on the floor with his back propped against the couch in Erica's livingroom. Erica lay quietly on the couch behind him. She switched the icepack to the other cheek. Some color had returned to her face since she'd eaten the warm soup he'd prepared. The glazed look was gone.<p>

While he'd been familiarizing himself with the kitchen, Jack shook his head and marveled at where life had brought him. How in heaven's name did he get here? How had Erica ever picked him to do this unlikely job of fighting on the front lines of this war? And how had he been the chosen one to come to her tonight?

He wasn't completely obtuse; he'd seen the effect she had on men. It amused him that so many heads swiveled when she went by. Her height and confidant posture initially attracted attention, but her beauty was stunning and would attract a double-take at times. A few short words with her while she was wearing her FBI personae enlightened any potential suitors that she had no interest and would take no prisoners if you crossed her. Jack and Erica drew some questioning stares when they were seen together in public. The priest and the FBI agent. Yes, indeed, how had that happened?

He found and prepared soup – comfort food – for them. They both felt better for it. It had been many hours since he'd eaten, too.

He made her lie down again with the icepack, then took up his sentinel position beside her, leaning his back against the couch, his legs stretched out on the floor and ankles crossed.

"Tell me what happened today, Erica." He purposely had his back to her. Although they always spoke face-to-face and she freely told him things she never shared with anyone else, he thought it might help for her to be speaking into the dimly lit room. Almost a confession, he mused. He reminded himself to stay calm and quiet. This was no time for discussion or outrage; it was time for her to unburden her soul.

So she began. She told him of Eli's phone call, that Ryan tried to kill Eli. She told him she tried to phone him, but realized he would be at Mass, so she went alone to confront Ryan. Eli's men had already beaten him. She told him of her fury at Ryan and that she would never be able to forgive him – that he should have come to her and told her Anna had his daughter. Her voice tightened at that point and she became quiet. Jack thought she might have fallen asleep, but then he heard the icepack move. Her voice changed again.

"Jack. You'd tell me if the Vs were holding something over you, wouldn't you? You wouldn't be afraid to tell me, would you?" Erica could see the curve of Jack's cheek change and knew he was smiling.

"Yes, Erica" was his simple reply.

The question had been completely unnecessary because Erica knew the answer before she asked it. But it was comforting to hear the question answered aloud.

Erica took her hand off her icepack and reached out, letting her fingers play absently with the hair at the nape of his neck. Jack didn't move and she continued to play. Then suddenly he sucked his breath in sharply. Erica's fingers stopped moving as she realized what she was doing and to whom.

"Your fingers are freezing!" Jack quietly exclaimed and looked over his shoulder at her. In the low light, he could see the initial surprise on her face and then the start of a beautiful smile that even touched her sad eyes. _You__'__re __still __in __there, __my __Erica, _he though with relief. He smiled back at her.

Jack reached over to grasp her hand then turned away again, placing her cold hand on his shoulder and covering it with his own warm hand. Knowing the exact location of that hand made him feel in control. Those roaming fingers had been doing spectacular things to his central nervous system in spite of their temperature.

"Tell me more. Why did you stay after you confronted Ryan?"


	4. Chapter 4

_**A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.  
><strong>__**~Author Unknown**_

Erica voice, although low, was gaining strength as she recounted the events of the day.

"Ryan warned me to get out, that he'd been followed by a tracker. But within a minute, the Bureau arrived outside. My team, Jack. My friends. It was too late to get out. I have no idea how they knew where to go to find Eli, except Anna must have had the information from the tracker and passed it on. Why do the dirty work when she can pit humans against humans? I didn't get a call from the FBI because I'd been benched – they didn't trust me – so I had no warning like every other time this has happened.

"Eli had about twenty men, all heavily armed. I told them not to shoot, I'd figure a way out, but we were completely surrounded. I couldn't believe how many units showed up.

"I know how the FBI thinks, so I decided to create a hostage situation, with me as the hostage. That way the FBI would think I wasn't compromised. To make it convincing, I had Eli hit me a couple of times."

Jack let go of a deep breath and hung his head. It was hard to be angry at a dead man even if there was no love lost between him and Eli Cohen. Jack regarded Cohen as a barbarian with a broken moral code that included sacrificing the lives of young men and women for the cause. Jack would never condone Eli's methods. Eli had certainly done a convincing job on Erica's face. It turned his stomach to imagine that scene in his mind.

Jack said nothing.

"The plan worked perfectly. They bought it.

"Lisa phoned Tyler – that's how Joe and Tyler found out about the situation." Now Erica's voice began to falter.

"Joe came down to see what he could do and ended up breaking through an old bootlegger's tunnel to get into Eli's building. I really don't know what he thought he could do."

But Jack understood perfectly. He probably would have done exactly the same thing in Joe's position.

Erica's voice retreated to a whisper. "The V's set Joe up. They wanted him in there. It was such a mess Jack. And it just got worse."

"As the FBI prepared to take the building, Eli bought us more time. But it wasn't good. He had four assets on the street wearing suicide bombs. They took those innocent hostages and brought them into the building. I was _so_ angry. He just made things harder and more complicated."

Jack tried to remain calm. He guessed that is what happens when you put two leaders together who were not working in concert. He was both angry at Eli Cohen for his tactical plans and upset that Erica dealt with everything alone.

"'If we don't protect the innocents, then we are no better than the Visitors.' That's what I told him." Jack swallowed the lump in his throat. He was so proud of her. This is why he would always be with her. In spite of opposition, she stood her moral ground. She was truly amazing. He quietly said a prayer of thanks for her strength and hoped it would never change.

Erica stopped talking. She withdrew her hand from under his and placed it on the back of his neck.

"Were you there?" she asked, no longer speaking to the darkness but into his ear.

"Yes, I was out on the street", he replied softly. "Chad was there, too, but I couldn't get any help from Hobbes. It's a good thing I couldn't get through the police barricade or I would have blown your cover." His voice had tightened as he spoke. It was time to stop talking and let Erica continue.

"Go on. Tell me what happened," he encouraged her.

"I told Ryan I would do what I could for his daughter, but I could never forgive him. I was so angry at him, too. I was afraid that we were all going to die because of his what he'd done. He said he was sorry – and it was awful. _**I**_ was just awful", Erica's voice caught. "I told him it was too late and I walked away."

Erica continued with mounting distress in her voice.

"It was going so well, Jack. We were walking out. I was sure that everything would be fine. Paul said the FBI wouldn't shoot. He gave his word. We were almost to safety when the explosion happened. I don't understand where the explosives came from unless they were the bombers vests. What would have set them off?

"Then there was gunfire everywhere and we were all running. Everyone was being hit by debris from the building. It was insanity!

"And then Joe was dead." Her voice had risen. "And then Tyler was there."

Suddenly Erica was sobbing and Jack scrambled to face her.

Erica sat upright, feet on the floor, her head in her hands.

"I hit him! I hit Tyler! I'm suppose to comfort him! What have I done?"

_No __wonder __Tyler __wasn__'__t __in __the __house._ But what had he said that would provoke Erica to strike him?

It was all coming clear to Jack. _So __this __was __the __final __straw_, he thought. This is what had ultimately devastated Erica.

"Erica, Tyler will be fine. He's young. He was upset; you were upset. He'll be back."

Kneeling on the floor in front of her, hands on her thighs, Jack continued.

"You've always been there for Tyler. You are a wonderful parent. He knows you love him more than anything, even if he's angry and hurt right now. You've done the best job you possibly could under the circumstances. You know that. Tell me you know that." He squeezed her legs to get her attention.

"Tell me you know that." He repeated insistently. Erica's tears were slowing.

"But have I? Have I really?" She raised her ravaged face to look for an answer.

"_Yes_, Erica." And Jack smiled his smile of reassurance that had worked to soothe so many others. It was a genuine smile reflected in his eyes. There was just something about it that soaked away fear and grief. Jack was completely unaware of its effect; he just knew that he was able to help people.

Erica leaned forward to prop her elbows on her knees, but when Jack took his hands off her legs and wrapped his arms around her, she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

"So many people died today and it's my fault." she said into his neck. "I don't know if I can do this anymore." Jack felt her head shake against his shoulder. As much as he'd like to savor this closeness, he had a job to do.

"No" he said firmly to her.

"Erica, you can't take responsibility for this! You did not kill those people. You made the best decisions you could with the knowledge you had. You saved many lives today. None of those hostages would have come out alive without you. None of the Fifth Column would have escaped without you. If you need to blame someone, blame Anna. You know she had a hand in this."

Jack voice was steady. His husky voice rumbled through her body and his warm hand rubbed her back.

"Erica, you are absolutely essential to us winning this war. You are intelligent and brave and compassionate. And all those things combined are what will rid us of Anna and her evil. You have to listen to me.

"Tyler needs you more than ever right now. The Fifth Column needs you. Anyone on earth who ever loved another human being needs you.

"I need you."

As Erica listened to Jack she relaxed again. Jack was giving Erica exactly what she needed - encouragement and support at precisely the right moment. He was strengthening the foundation she needed to restore herself for battles ahead.

"Today was hard. You felt alone and Eli made it harder for you. But you're not alone. Ever. Remember that. _Always_."

Erica lifted her head from his shoulder and placed her hands on each side of Jack's face. She was no longer drowning. It was as though he'd reached out his hand and pulled her from the suffocating darkness she had plunged into. She looked at him, studying him for a few moments as his words filtered through both the emotional and intellectual parts of her being.

"You're a good man," she whispered her gratitude, "I'm very lucky." And then she smiled the sweetest, saddest smile he'd ever seen.

*******  
>Erica slept restlessly on the couch during the night, reluctant to move to her bed when Jack suggested it. She was afraid he would not follow her there and she didn't want to be alone. He remained sitting on the floor by her side. He had the numb extremities to prove it. She jerked awake a number of times and he was immediately there with soothing words and a gentle hand.<p>

Finally, as dawn backlit the curtains, Erica rose and went to shower. Later, she found him in the kitchen brewing coffee and eating toast. She looked pale and drawn and her bruises stood out sharply. But she was no longer bereft. She asked if Tyler had called while she was in the shower, and he replied no as he handed her a steaming mug. Her detached expression became more rigid. There was more than a subtle difference in her demeanor this morning and Jack wondered what was going on inside her head. There was no time to find out.

Jack answered the door when Erica's brother arrived. Brian raised his eyebrows at seeing an unknown/unheard about man opening his sister's door. It was then that Jack felt the full impact of the loss of his collar. Its presence explained so much with no words needed. He grabbed his jacket and slid it on. This was a time for family, not introductions.

Erica did not stop him from leaving, assuming he was needed for morning Mass. Under the watchful eye of her brother, she stiffly hugged Jack and thanked him. Jack smiled his automatic priest-smile at her, nodded to Brian and left.

Now driving back to the rectory, with the windows rolled down and the morning sun blinding him, Jack smiled through his exhaustion. Although he left her at home, Erica was still with him. His jacket, which spent the night laying over hers on the banister, had picked up the scent of her perfume. He drew a deep breath that began to shake as his chest filled, and the tears of worry and empathy which had been nagging behind his eyes all night long began to roll freely down his cheeks.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading!<p> 


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